


Because You Were Silent

by Imhilien



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama, F/M, Humor, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 02:35:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11819445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imhilien/pseuds/Imhilien
Summary: Buffy realises that she owes the injured Spike for not betraying her or Dawn to Glory, and returns to the crypt. Post 'Intervention' AU





	Because You Were Silent

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on FF.net.
> 
> I don't own anything to do with 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer', just borrowing the characters.

As Buffy left Spike's crypt her thoughts were in turmoil. She had come to see Spike in order to kill him for betraying Dawn. She had been so certain that he had done that - after all, hadn't he betrayed them to Adam last year? Spike was a vampire and evil came as naturally to him as breathing.

But he hadn't betrayed Dawn after all. She could still see the look of tired, defiant pride on his battered face when he said he'd rather die first than let Glory know about Dawn, that he wanted to spare Buffy the pain of losing Dawn.

Buffy paused to sit on a graveyard and bit her lip. It had been easy to ignore his declarations of love for her as one would ignore the buzzing of an irritating fly. Spike was a soulless vampire, therefore he couldn't love, right? Certainly they could lust, and Buffy forced herself to control the wave of fury inside her at the thought of that sex toy. But he had been willing to be killed, to be tortured to a grisly death out of love for her and Dawn.

She was almost angry at him for this. She didn't want his love - she didn't want him to be all heroic for her sake, she didn't want him... dead. She flinched at that thought. Oh, no. Please, no.

I don't care for him, she thought hastily. No. Of course not. Never in a million years, right? Besides, it wasn't if that kiss meant anything really, just an acknowledgement of what he had done. Yeah. 

But she was forced to consider that Spike had become a shadow member of the Scooby Gang, someone that could be relied on in a crisis for his supernatural strength. Relied on of course, because they paid him afterwards. But no one had expected Spike to do a heroic deed of his own free will, with no payment expected. She owed him for that.

Was that her imagination or could she hear footsteps in the cemetery? She couldn't help but flinch at the sudden thought that perhaps Glory's minions were coming back to fetch Spike for another round of torture. In his weakened state Spike would not be able to resist them. 

He deserves to die, a cold voice inside her whispered. Let him die a death he's given to countless others.

If I do, then I'm no better than him, she retorted silently. 

Great, now she was talking to herself. In return for keeping silent about Dawn, she owed it to Spike to take him to a safe place to recuperate until he was better. She would take him back to her house, and once he was better she would consider them even.

********

Spike couldn't stop staring at his door where Buffy had walked out. She had kissed him! Bloody hell, he thought in amazement. Despite the agony his body was in, there was softness in his blue eyes. Despite his broken bones, he felt like doing a poofter thing like dance around the room and then writing some poetry about her.

He blinked in shock. Poetry! Oh no. No. 

This is a bad sign Spike m'boy, he thought. Next you'll be prancing around looking pathetic like that nancy-boy Angel. He hadn't thought of writing poetry in eons, not since he had ripped up his poems to Cecily in angry tears, before he was...changed. Changed into something that could not create but only kill and feed, and laugh while doing so. 

No vampire could create… but his love for Buffy - renewed by her tender kiss - was running through his tired body like fire, and for the first time in years his fingers itched for a pen so he could write something soppy about her blonde hair. Hell.

Long repressed memories rose up in his brain about poem composition, of rhyme. 

He smirked to himself. I'll be able to do something you can't do Angel, for all that you have a soul, he thought in triumph. While you mope about in your doom 'n gloom mode, _I'll_ be writing Buffy love poems. Yeah. 

He smiled in satisfaction and cautiously stood up. Bad move. The room spun around and he crumpled to the floor in agony. This was not good, he thought blearily. He shouldn't have chucked that wheelchair away.

Buffy walked back into the crypt and paused when there was no sign of Spike. 

"Spike!" she called in surprise and heard a moan of pain from behind his casket. She ran towards it and saw his battered body sprawled ungraciously on the floor, his puffy eyes closed. Despite her intention to be calm and detached she couldn't help but feel distress at the sight of him. It had been hard to stay in her role as the 'Buffy Bot' when she had first saw the torture he had gone through.

His eyes opened and he gazed in surprise up at her. "You came back," he said faintly.

"I can't leave you here like this," Buffy said gently. "If Glory's minions come back, you'll be helpless."

Spike glared up at her. "Helpless? Let them come. I'll rip their scabby heads off!" he growled. He tried to get up and fell back, gasping in pain.

"Don't move!" she scolded and peering around the crypt saw a white blanket. Perfect. She hurried over to it and picking it up, took it back to Spike - who stared at her in wary alarm.

"I don't like that look on your face, Slayer. It means 'Humiliate Spike Time' doesn't it! What are you planning?"

"I'm taking you back to my place to recover, but I'll have to um, bundle you up first. I don't want Flame Grilled Spike," she said gently, with a slightly sheepish smile on her face.

Spike stared up at her in shock, unable to believe she would actually be willing to take him back to her house. Her house that she had banned him from. Amazement and disbelief fought for space on his face and he looked away awkwardly, but not before Buffy saw the glimmer of tears in his eyes.

"Do you know what will happen if anyone sees us, Slayer?" he said gruffly, still avoiding her eyes. "They'll say, 'He used to be the Big Bad, now he's just a big pansy, that's what he is' ". 

He waved a hand at her as if he was bored. "All right then, but mind you don't muss the hair."

"I'll brush it later!" she retorted. She laid the blanket out on the floor, then knelt and gently picked up Spike's lean body (both of them trying to ignore a sudden feeling of desire when that happened). She placed him on the blanket then tucked it around him so that the sunlight wouldn't destroy him outside.

"I feel like a bloody cocoon," Spike grumbled, but he didn't object further when she picked him up again easily, blanket and all, and cradled him awkwardly against her chest as she carried him outside.

It didn't bother her physically to carry him, but emotionally on the other hand, holding him in her arms… her mind shied away from how good that felt. 

An unwelcome memory rose to the surface of her mind, from when she had once been on patrol with Riley before he left.  
They had rescued a man from being attacked by vampires in the park. It had rained hard earlier that day and the vampires had dumped the semi-conscious man in a big swampy puddle before they fled, the man’s limbs lying in an awkward tangle. 

Without thinking twice, she had picked him up and carried him over to a dry bench so she could check for broken bones without getting too much mud on her hands (a girl had to think of the important things in life).

Fortunately, there hadn't been any broken bones but she had felt the skin on her neck crawl for some reason and she had looked up at Riley in puzzlement. He had quickly tried to hide the expression on his face when she looked at him, but she had seen it - the cold resentment he felt that she had greater strength than him now his 'supplement' days were over. 

Really, in the long run that had been part of the reason why they had broken up; he had never really come to term with the fact that she was stronger than most mortals, and wasn't a person who waited around for her boyfriend to rescue her.

At least that was one good thing about Spike - he didn't try and make her feel bad about being Super Strong Girl. She realised to her shock how much she would miss him if he died now of his wounds - his sardonic humour, the way he treated her as if he saw her, not just the Slayer. 

Even the way he looked in moonlight - all lean and graceful darkness, his pale, fine boned face looking almost ethereal while his eyes gleamed at her with wicked amusement. She stumbled slightly in confusion and recovered when Spike mumbled at her to be "careful with the merchandise".

Calm. Collected. Composed. That's what she would be.

Fortunately the sky had darkened with sullen grey clouds, which reduced the odds of bringing home a pile of ashes. She made it home without incident and because her arms were full, she gave the door a firm kick.

"It's Buffy," she called. "Open the door, hurry!" 

As she heard running footsteps inside, Buffy murmured, "Spike, I invite you in". 

She felt him quiver slightly, but that was probably because of his wounds. 

The door was opened by Xander who did a double take at the sight of her carrying a blanket covered form.

"Is that Spike? I thought he'd be swept up with a broom by now!" he said in bewilderment. 

At her impatient look, he stood aside to let her through. Anya and Dawn, drawn by the voices, stared at Buffy in surprise. It looked like the others hadn't stayed around.

"We're still safe," Buffy said firmly. "He didn't betray us and I couldn't leave him for those goons to come back for him". 

They stared and then smiles of amazed relief broke out on their faces.

Buffy looked at Xander. "I'll need some blood - would you go to the butchers?" 

Xander nodded. "Will do," he said, then hurried off.

Buffy turned and carried Spike upstairs to her room and laid him carefully on the bed. She removed the blanket and noted with worry that he had passed out. His wounds had stopped bleeding but his face was black and sickly green from bruising. She would have to do what she could until Xander came back.

She gently cleaned away the blood, frowning over the coin-shaped wound in his chest. Glory was going to get one hell of a chick fight for that. She carefully rubbed his wounds with a salve made from lavender. He would smell like a florist but it would do the job.

After a while, she heard footsteps on the stairs and Xander came into the room with a mug of blood, a concerned expression on his face. 

"They only had cows blood."

Buffy nodded. "It will do, thanks." 

Xander stared at the comatose, battered vampire and gulped. "We'll be downstairs if you need anything." 

She nodded and Xander left the mug on the bedside table.

She carefully lifted Spike to a sitting position and brought the mug to his swollen mouth. She dripped the blood slowly into his mouth, sighing with relief when he instinctively swallowed the blood, his eyelids fluttering though he didn't come to. When it was done, she laid him back on the bed. Who would have thought she'd end up nursing Spike, at one time her most sworn enemy?

Buffy stared down at him and was relieved to see the bruises start to fade. She remembered Angel explaining that for vampires, broken bones healed within a few days. Spike's face looked more relaxed and he appeared to be sleeping naturally now. 

Finding herself yawning, she pulled a chair close to the bed and decided to sit in it and close her eyes, just for a moment.

Later that night Spike woke and froze when he found he was on a bed. What the hell? He peered around and noted the feminine furnishings. He was in Buffy's room? How did he get here? 

He blinked as memories came rushing back and felt oddly shy for a second at the thought of Buffy's compassion.

He experimentally moved his body and frowned in disbelief - he felt better. His broken ribs felt partially healed and he had a full stomach too, noting the empty mug beside him and smelling the residue of blood in it. 

But what was that funny smell? He touched his wounds cautiously and then sniffed his finger. It smelled of lavender. Lavender! He didn't know whether he wanted to howl in masculine outrage or laugh hysterically.

Spike stared at the sleeping Slayer who was sprawled in a chair by the bed, snoring. He rolled his eyes. At least he didn't snore. He got up off the bed carefully and looked down at her, then reached to stroke her face gently, his hand trembling. 

She had brought him home and helped him heal - for that, she had only to name something she wanted and he would hack his way through legions of undead to get it, and he would put a frigging red bow on it, too.

The least he could do now was make her comfortable. He managed to pick her up and laid her on the bed, then carefully stretched out beside her. She stirred in her sleep and mumbled his name, snuggling closer to him. 

Spike thought in bemusement that if he felt any happier, then he'd start glowing like a bloody light bulb. Maybe there was a good chance for them, after all. He drew her closer to him and closed his eyes.

Later, when Dawn peeped into her sister's room she grinned at the sight of Buffy and Spike curled in each other's arms, fast asleep. It looked like Spike would have someone to play checkers with, after all.

FINIS


End file.
